


The Sleep Shift

by aurelie_saintjuste



Category: Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Intercourse, Sleepy Sex, kanera - Freeform, plot? never heard of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurelie_saintjuste/pseuds/aurelie_saintjuste
Summary: Hera completely fails at sneaking in on Kanan; Kanan finds a sleeping Twi'lek in his bunk.Two independent short stories with one shared theme, set sometime after A New Dawn but before Star Wars Rebels.Happy birthday, SpecSeven. <3
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	1. Hera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpecSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/gifts).



> These two short stories are meant to be read independently of one another, but because of their origin and the similarity in theme, I decided to post them as one collection/story. Maybe I'll do more variations on this theme if I can find a way to make them unique.
> 
> My good friend SpecSeven recently had a birthday, and I wrote this first piece (Hera) for her as a birthday gift. A few days before I was set to give it to her, she sent me a similar-but-different prompt from Kanan's POV, and I couldn't help but write both for her. And me. And the rest of you. Enjoy.

Perhaps her favorite reason for doing this was that she needed no reason at all.

Sure, she likes to think of it as captain’s privilege aboard her own ship and maybe it was a little (okay,  _ a lot _ ) self indulgent, but in a galaxy rife with conflict, disaster and violence, Hera isn’t about to squander any opportunity presented to her that would allow herself and her partner a moment’s joy. Which is why she wakes from the sleep cycle a little earlier than normal and doesn’t bother to pull her flight suit over the thermal tights and tank top she wears underneath her usual getup. She leaves her armor and her pilot’s cap in their neat pile on the durasteel shelf near her bed, but she does take the opportunity to wrap her lekku in a soft black scarf before padding silently across the hall from her cabin to Kanan’s. 

She taps the controls outside his door and lets herself in behind the hatch’s soft hiss.  _ Perfect _ , she muses silently, and she’s not sure if the thought is more in favor of the fact that she’s managed to sneak into his cabin undetected ( _ curse _ those heightened Jedi senses) or the fact that he really is perfect. Sleep casts Kanan’s face in a far softer light than wakefulness, his brow isn’t furrowed as he works out some complicated, mission-related con, and the angles of his sharp jaw are relaxed. His hair is loose and absolutely riotous against the surplus white linens of the bunk, and Hera takes a moment to admire the steady rise and fall of his naked chest, equal parts fascinated and grateful that his human physiology causes his body to run far warmer than hers, allowing him to sleep comfortably in far less clothing than she. 

Hera bites her lower lip around a smile, and slips a little deeper into the small cabin towards his bed. She prays to the stars that with whatever time she’s afforded with Kanan, that the novelty of  _ this _ never gets old. 

She’s so close to him now. Hera crouches down beside the bunk, and she’s just about to stroke a lock of hair away from his closed eyes when like lightning, her wrist is caught in one large, strong hand.

_ Kriff. So close. _

“Do you make a habit of creeping on all of your crew, captain?” his voice is sleep-roughened and deep and Hera feels her insides warm at the sound. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes when he asks, “Or am I just lucky?”

“Well, considering you’re the only member of this crew, I guess I’m guilty.” Hera tries to tug her hand away, but Kanan has her wrist easily encircled, and she’s truly trapped. She hardly resists when he tugs gently on her wrist to bring her tumbling on top of his warm body, and a moment’s adjustment has Hera’s knees straddling either side of his torso, her ass resting square on his stomach. 

He cracks an eye open to appraise her current position, “You look too happy for someone so guilty,” he quips, and even as he jokes, Hera’s palms slide up his chest and sweep across his shoulders. She will never tire of his warm skin, and, maybe it’s a Twi’lek thing, but her fascination with the fine dark hair that grows across it. 

“Hard to feel guilty when my mission was mostly a success,” she says smugly, and leans down to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

There is positively no reason, short of the practicality of comfort, that Hera doesn’t sleep in Kanan’s bunk. With the exception of Chopper, who vehemently would not approve of the sleeping situation, there is nobody to impress aboard the  _ Ghost _ . But Hera still pays this man for each successful run that they make, and somewhere in her stubborn brain, there’s some ladder of propriety that mandates that she sleep at least most nights in her own cabin and not in her crew’s beds. 

On the upside, it makes these mornings more fun.

Kanan doesn’t seem to mind either as one hand slides alongside her jaw, keeping her in place as his tongue trails the seam of her lips, looking to deepen their kiss. The other slides down the graceful column of her spine, holding her body in place against his. A small sigh escapes her lips as his tongue slips into her mouth, and she can feel that familiar, tingling warmth in her stomach start to spread throughout her body. 

“A success, huh?” Kanan growls close to her mouth, pulling back only momentarily to study her with those sea-glass eyes. Hera isn’t prepared for how quickly he moves when he carefully catches her wrists again and flips her flat against the mattress, holding his body up on one strong, wiry forearm. It’s dangerous work considering how narrow the bunk is and how close to the wall she comes, but the movement is fast, and Hera knows that Kanan’s awareness of space is more acute than she will ever understand. A short laugh falls from her lips as she tries to meet his mouth again and is denied. 

“Because the way I see things from here, Captain Syndulla, you’ve just become a prisoner.” 

Hera stares at him for a full moment before actually bursting into laughter, “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, Jarrus.”

Kanan can probably think of stupider things he’s said in front of her, but he shrugs and dips his head to meet her mouth again, and Hera is happy to be distracted. His mouth is warm against hers and she twists one wrist free from his loose grip to run her fingers through his hair, twisting into its length to keep him close to her. Hera has learned a few things about making love to Kanan this early on; first, the concept of hair was completely foreign to her, and she was delighted to discover how much he enjoyed when she ran her fingers through it. A true win/win, as it was a simple, soothing gesture that Hera could do all day, as calming to her as it was to him. And second, that he absolutely would purr when she brought her nails close to his scalp and ever so gently…

Tugged. 

Kanan makes one of her favorite noises, somewhere between a soft growl and a purr against her mouth, and Hera takes the opportunity to free her second hand, and slide it down his throat, to the hollow of his neck. There were so many sensitive places on a human male and Hera is still discovering his favorites, an exploration she is all too eager to undertake. She doesn’t have much time to consider her next move, however, as Kanan’s mouth has freed hers and is slowly making its way across her jaw, pressing warm kisses until he comes close to her earcone where that purr manifests itself as a whisper.

  
“You’re wearing too much,” he says, and Hera turns to face him, her jade eyes locked on his.

“Then do something about it.” 

Kanan doesn’t wait for further invitation, but adjusts his body to lie alongside hers and sets to work sliding the black tank top up her stomach and over her chest. He pauses momentarily, as if he can’t help himself, and one hand moves up her warm skin and cups one breast gently, his thumb circling the darkened nipple. Hera bites her lower lip as she watches his ministrations through half-lidded eyes, and she wants out of this clothing immediately.

_ Next time cut to the chase, Hera, and just show up naked. _

He dips his mouth to swirl his tongue gently across the pert nipple, before moving to press kisses to the valley between her breasts, then up her sternum and neck, pulling her top along with him and carefully freeing her from it. Hera will never tire of the reverent look he bestows up on her naked skin. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes as if he can read her mind. 

Hera decides to assist with her leggings, partially because peeling them off is a little more difficult from the position they’re in, but mostly because Kanan is distracted with a kiss bordering on searing and she does not want to suffer one more instant in these clothes. She shimmies out of them with as much grace as she can, and when they roll to her ankles, she toes them completely off. At the realization that she is now fully naked and in his bed, Kanan trails warm fingertips down her cheek, skates past her neck and down her chest and stomach before stopping where Hera really would like them.

“Kanan,” she sighs against his mouth, and rolls her hips against his hand, urging him on. 

He doesn’t require much urging, and Hera arches her back slightly as Kanan slides a finger through her folds and inside her. She’s already slick and it’s easy for him to add a second, while his thumb ever so slightly circles and presses the ultra-sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. Hera’s mouth stills against his as he thrusts his fingers shallowly into her, careful to not bring her so close to the edge that she topples over it so soon.

He has other plans, apparently. His hand stays at her core, gently thrusting and teasing her, but he uses his other to help himself sit up alongside her gently writhing form. A dangerous smile plays on his lips as he locks his eyes on hers, and begins shifting further down the mattress, freeing himself from his own soft sleep pants and dipping his mouth to drop kisses down her neck… then sternum… the smooth skin between her breasts… then flat stomach… until he’s dangerously close to his working hand. 

Kanan presses kisses along her hip, and it takes all of Hera’s self control to not sit up and watch her handsome lover. She resists the urge to do so, and tosses her head back against the pillow, her eyes closed and her mouth slack as Kanan’s fingers slide out of her and are replaced by the wet warmth of his lips. 

She hisses his name, and tries her hardest not to buck her hips as Kanan settles at her core, his body between her legs. Hera could cuss a string of expletives in two languages at how talented that tongue is against her sensitive skin, but all that seems to escape her mouth are satisfied sighs. Every nerve ending in her is electrified, and she moves her body against his to seek more - more of his heat, more of his mouth, more of his attention. Kanan doesn’t seem to mind when she raises one leg to rest against his shoulder - he uses the new vantage point to slide his fingers back inside her, his tongue lapping and sucking at the sensitive core. 

“Kanan,” she hisses in warning, and the coil in her stomach is so tight. She rolls her hips against him again and Kanan hums with pleasure, not missing a beat. Hera props herself up as best she can - her muscles feel like jelly - but she wants to watch him at work. She’s rewarded with his darkened blue-green eyes locked on hers, and the sight of his free hand languidly stroking his own cock. 

It’s enough to throw her over the edge of ecstasy, and Hera comes undone with his name on her lips, her breath coming hard and her vision just slightly blurred at the edges. Kanan keeps his mouth on her until she stills and her breathing stabilizes, and when she does, he slides his fingers from her. Hera feels another surge of pleasure burn through her as she watches him suck his fingers clean. A low growl escapes her as she reaches to pull him back up to her, pressing her mouth against his, tasting herself on his lips.

“Good morning,” he laughs against her mouth, kissing the corners of her lips. His smile is dangerous and his eyes are glittering with mischief and Hera is sure this morning is about to get even better. 

She scrambles quickly to sit up, her muscles still warm and tingly from release. She crawls over him and presses his back into the bulkhead so that she can sit on her knees between his spread legs. He has his hand on his cock again, and he’s stroking himself unhurriedly, lazily, and Hera wonders how he manages to keep his body in check, not complaining or grimacing once through pleasuring her despite the fact that his erection looks so hard it must be painful. A shame the Jedi were forbidden to have romantic relationships - it seemed the Force could be a tremendous ally in bed. 

Hera rakes her fingers down his chest, her nails dig just enough into the soft skin over muscle to leave behind faint tracks that disappear quickly. Kanan’s half-hooded eyes never move from her, and Hera can feel his gaze burning as one hand covers his, slowly stroking his weeping cock. Her touch is feather light against his, but Kanan groans appreciatively and removes his hand, settling against the bulkhead and tucking his arms behind his head.

Her fingers curl around the velvety skin and she falls into the familiar cadence she has learned Kanan favors. Hera loves working him with her hand because it affords her the opportunity to take in his face, slack with pleasure. Kanan has thrown himself in danger more times than she’ll ever know - both as part of her crew and before coming aboard the  _ Ghost _ \- and seeing him so relaxed, so loose, is beautiful. To know can make him feel this way is empowering, and her heart swells knowing that she can offer him this retreat.

She also knows that while he appreciates the ministrations of her hand, that he will absolutely come undone when she adds the wet warmth of her mouth to the equation. She doesn’t miss an opportunity to do exactly that, first allowing her pink tongue to lave the pearly drop of precome from his head. Kanan bucks against her and she smiles against his skin, emboldened to lick and suck at the swollen head of his cock. 

“Hera,” he warns, his voice tight, “if you… If you want this to last… be careful.” 

His voice is rough and cuts right through her. She does want this to last - at least long enough for him to get exactly what she knows he loves most. Hera has gotten him off with her mouth enough times to know he loves a good blowjob (and certainly in enough places on her ship that she can’t look at them the same way without a deep flush warming her cheeks), but she knows he favors the intimacy of coming inside her. She wants to give him that, too.

But not before bringing him close, watching him squirm, and uttering her name in that completely desperate, depraved voice.

Hera dips her mouth lower, the flat of her tongue licking a broad stripe along the underside of his cock. She sets to work sucking gently, curling one small fist at the base of his erection and setting a rhythm she knows he’ll appreciate. What she does not expect is the cool air at her head, and the feel of her lekku coming free from the black scarf - the last remaining shred of clothing between them. Kanan has tossed it aside, and she feels the air knocked out of her as he gently dances his fingers at the base of her lek, and slides his hand from her skull down to the tapered tip. 

A shudder rips through her body as he does it again… and again. Hera’s mouth slides free from his cock with a wet pop, and she sits up to meet his gaze. A filthy Ryl curse comes to mind as she takes in the absolute debauched look of this man, leaning against the wall of the bunk, hair loose and his eyes darker than she’s ever seen them and appraising her like a hungry animal. One of his large hands slides to the base of her skull, pulling her to him. 

She doesn’t waste any time as his mouth crashes into hers - they are both so worked up, so  _ ready _ , that there’s no point in waiting or teasing any longer, and Kanan pushes himself off the bulkhead just enough to sit up straight. Hera understands his meaning and straddles his lap, supported by his free hand at the small of her back. She wraps her legs around his torso and sits up just enough to line up his cock to her entrance, and slowly, without moving her mouth from his, sinks her hips against him, welcoming him in inch by inch. 

Kanan groans against her lips, and she presses her forehead to his as she takes him in, her breath releasing in a long sigh. When she feels him bottom out, she opens her eyes and waits to meet his gaze before making any further move. His face is a picture of concentration, his strong brows knit together and his eyes squeezed shut against the pleasure.

“H-Hera,” he stammers but opens his eyes to meet her gaze, and her insides flutter at the sight and sound of Kanan Jarrus so undone. “You’re… you’re magnificent.” 

She laughs softly, maybe even a little desperately, and she presses her heels into the small of his back to give her enough leverage to roll her hips against his. He groans again. She rolls them again… and again… and again, setting the pace to allow him to sink into her deeper and deeper. 

Kanan buries his face into the soft skin between her neck and shoulder, his long hair tickling at her skin. Hera can tell he’s close when the snap of his hips against hers starts to lose its rhythm and become more erratic, more desperate. She can feel his warm breath at her throat, and knows his release is imminent when she feels his teeth sink into her skin, a brilliant flash of pain-pleasure, almost as if he’s trying to stifle the cry coming from deep in his throat.

“Come for me, Kanan,” she hisses in his ear, her fingers tangled in his hair. 

The cry erupts from his lips and Hera feels every muscle in him tense against hers, his release wracking his body. She wraps her arms around him, one hand holding his head to her shoulder, the other stroking down the taut muscles of his back, still shuddering in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She drops a soft kiss to the crown of his head and presses her face into his hair, smiling into the dark strands.

Finally, his voice catches up with him, “This is not the worst job in the galaxy I’ve ever taken,” he admits and Hera can feel his smirk against her shoulder.

“Then now’s probably as good a time as any to tell you that we’re broke and need to find a run today.” Hera quips and she’s only half joking.

Kanan lifts his head and meets her gaze, his arms wrapped around her back and one hand splayed between her shoulder blades. He is so handsome, and Hera feels a surge of emotion that she can only manifest with a deep kiss. It lacks the heat and urgency from earlier, but the electricity is still there and she’s gratified to be met in kind.

“And,” she says, pulling back carefully against his hold and jabbing one slender finger into his chest, “You still have repairs on the nav system that I could have sworn I asked about yesterday?”

Kanan gives her a suffering look, “All business, even in bed Captain Hera?” 

“All I’m saying is that so long as you’re a member of this crew, you’ll reap the benefits of the job,” and she rolls her hips against his, meaningfully, though his cock has softened inside her, “but you have to do the work, too.” 

She kisses him again quickly, not giving him a chance to fight her before she slips off his lap and reaches for her discarded scarf, tank top, and, somewhere in the mess of sheets, she finds her balled up leggings. “But first, you can help me test the water pressure in the ‘fresher. Seems like it’s been a little weak lately.” 

Kanan smiles, “Aye aye, captain.” 

  
  



	2. Kanan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From SpecSeven's prompt, asking for Kanan to come back to his cabin to find Hera trying to wait for him, but instead falling asleep. Sleepy sex ensues.

Kanan isn’t sure how many hours he’s lost in the repairs on the  _ Phantom _ , but he is both exhausted and grateful to be free from the small ship when he makes his way across the  _ Ghost _ and back towards his cabin. They’ve been busy across the Outer Rim over these last few weeks and a lull in activity has afforded Hera an opportunity to provide him with a laundry list of to-dos and maintenance tasks across the freighter. It’s hard for Kanan to complain, since she pulls as much weight of the repair work as he does, and oftentimes, more.

And besides, he loves watching her work on her ship.

He barely suppresses a yawn and raises an arm up over his head, bending his elbow so that his hand falls between his shoulder blades in a glorious stretch. Kanan’s been tucked into the narrow confines of the guts of the  _ Phantom _ for too long, his limbs are achy and cramped from work, and the promise of blessed sleep pushes him forward towards his cabin. His fingers are already freeing the clasps of his shoulder armor as his free hand taps entry into his cabin.

Habit overrides his exhaustion as he starts disentangling himself from armor and belt, holster and blaster, boots and knee guards. Kanan unceremoniously dumps the lot of it on the floor, resolving to deal with it after a desperately needed shift of sleep. He tugs his tunic over his head and crosses the small distance from his discarded clothes to his bunk.

… There’s a Twi’lek in his bed.

… And he is sure he hadn’t left one there at the start of his shift.

A slow warmth burns through his chest as he takes in the sight of Hera, fast asleep and curled in the center of his mattress. An abandoned datapad sits near one hand, the other tucked under her head. She’s stripped down to the solid black tank top she wears under her blouse and armor, and he can spot the skin tight black leggings she wears under her flight suit peeking out from the covers shoved down past her hip. Sleep has softened the features of her face, her lekku relaxed against his pillow, and whatever she’s dreaming of, it must be something good because her lips have curled into a sweet smile.

_ No _ , Kanan decides, _ there was no way he would have been able to leave her behind like  _ this _. _

Kanan is faced with the opposite of a problem from his more colorful past. Sneaking out of a woman’s bed had never been a challenge for the younger, more troubled version of himself, and now he all but rolls his eyes at the irony of trying to find his way  _ into _ bed with a woman without waking her up. Kanan is sizing up his options, and as if she can sense this internal dilemma of  _ where do I kneel first _ , Hera shifts in sleep, rolls flat on her back, one arm dangling freely from the side of the bunk, her legs stretching and relaxing to take up more space in the already narrow bed.

Kanan runs a hand down his face, his fingers stopping at the smile playing at his lips. He vehemently does  _ not _ want to wake her, but his exhausted body would love just one small corner of his own bed.

“Hey,” he whispers, “C’mon, Hera, just… move over a little.” 

An unhelpful, sleepy sound escapes her lips.

“Hera,” he tries again, the ridiculousness of the situation outweighing his annoyance. He kneels against the corner of the mattress and tries to slide his arms under her, gathering her body just enough to confine her limbs to one side of the bed. Kanan moves quickly to slide in alongside her, the sheets warm in the space her body recently occupied. He settles on his back, precariously close to the open side of the bunk and shifts his left arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her body close to his. 

In sleep, Hera repositions herself to lie on her side, her head resting on his left shoulder, and her legs twining with his. A contented sigh escapes her lips as her free hand settles on the warmth of his bare chest, and Kanan is both amazed and impressed at her ability to stay fast asleep through all of their shuffling.

“It’s a good thing I like you,” Kanan says with no malice, though the bunk is  _ so _ small, even for just one person, and Hera is - for all of her many virtues and talents - greedy with space in bed. 

“I like you too,” she murmurs against his shoulder and he’s only a little surprised to receive a response. After a pause, she says, “You’re late.”

Kanan barks a quiet, low laugh, “You keep me busy, captain.” 

“Mm,” she agrees, and Kanan isn’t sure if she’s slipped back into sleep. 

“Should I ask why you were waiting in my bunk?” he asks, on the off chance he’ll get a confession out of her.

“I like your bunk.”    
  
“Yours is exactly the same.”    
  
“But this one smells like you,” she argues, and Kanan is sure she’s definitely awake now. With the arm around her, he trails his fingers down the graceful curve of her spine, and Hera nestles closer against the side of his body.

What Kanan is sure she means is that this cabin has somehow become  _ theirs _ , and he feels much the same. Hera has managed to sneak (is it  _ really _ sneaking if she owns the ship?) into his quarters often since the beginning of this  _ thing _ that they’ve shared, and while he may grouse about tight sleeping quarters, he’ll endure it if it means he gets to feel her soft, pliant body against his and the comfort, safety and intimacy that comes from sharing these quiet moments with her.

Kanan shifts again, trying to claim more space on the narrow bed, this time to lie on his side beside her. One arm slips around her, pulling her flush against his body and holding her in place with a strong hand at her tailbone. His other hand moves to cup her cheek and gently pull her face to his, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as his lips softly meet hers. Hera’s hand strokes up and down the center of his chest, a contented purr of appreciation thrums in her throat. 

Truly, he is exhausted, and truly, he would not be upset to slip into unconsciousness with her body wrapped around his. But Kanan feels the heat in his chest start to spread, and if Hera’s insistent nipping at his lower lip is any indication, it would seem that sleep will be put off just a little longer at the worthy expense of a little release.

Kanan trails his fingers down her cheek to trace her mouth. “You’re not actually sleeping, are you?” he accuses playfully, as his index finger skims her lower lip.

In a wordless response, Hera pushes his shoulder to roll him to lie flat on his back once again, and languidly slides her body to drape over his. Her knees straddle his torso, and her ass is dangerously close to Kanan’s rapidly growing erection, trapped in the most uncomfortable confines of his suddenly too-tight pants. He could curse for not having the foresight to slip out of those before joining her in bed. 

Hera is in no rush, her limbs still sluggish with sleep. Her palms are flat against his chest, fingers splayed as she slides them ever so slowly across the muscular planes of his pectorals, and sweeps them across his sternum and down his shoulders. When they come to rest on the swell of his biceps, Kanan slides his arms around her, holding her torso flush against his. She arches her back just slightly, stretching like a lazy tooka, and brings her mouth to his once again. 

Her kiss is sweet, soft and unhurried. Kanan’s mouth opens against hers, the depth of a shared kiss like  _ this _ would be enough to make his knees weak if he were standing. 

“No,” she admits, pressing her forehead to his, “I’m not actually sleeping, but this wouldn’t be the worst place to do so.”

Kanan makes a noise in agreement, and meets her mouth again. He trails a hand down her spine to cup the swell of her ass, clad in those leggings that leave very little to the imagination. She hums in approval against his mouth and she pulls back just slightly, her jade eyes meeting his sea-glass. 

“Seems like you’re not quite ready for bed yet, either,” she muses sweetly and gracefully slides her body just a little lower, low enough for her core to meet his. With a lazy roll of her hips she makes her awareness of his body known and grants him the permission he needs. 

She braces herself with her palms flat against his chest, and Kanan wastes no time in skimming his hands up the warm skin of her sides, pushing the tank top up her body. She frees it over her lekku and tosses it aside, a little shudder wracks her body with her newly exposed skin. 

“Hera,” he breathes.  _ This _ is not brand new for them anymore, but the sight of her bare to him still sends a thrill down his spine, and for all of the wrong Kanan Jarrus has committed across the galaxy, he’s somehow been rewarded with something so right. 

He reaches one hand up to her face to stroke her cheek once again, and pulls her down to meet his mouth. Her breasts are flush against his chest, and the skin-on-skin contact sears through him like blaster fire. His free hand can’t unbutton the placket of his pants fast enough and it takes all of his finesse to free himself from the garment without toppling the woman perched on top of him.

Hera has set to work exploring the soft skin at the hinge of his jaw, just below his ear. There’s no urgency, no rush, no hurry in her movements, but instead a deep appreciation and reverence of his body as she maps each scar and mark of his skin with her mouth. She presses warm kisses against his neck, occasionally punctuating each with a scrape of her teeth against the sensitive skin. Finally freed from the last of his clothes, Kanan secures her in place with one hand at her back, and reaches around her body to tug lazily at his cock. 

He tilts his head back on the pillow just slightly, enough to offer her better access to the column of his neck. Hera rests her head on his shoulder, and allows her mouth and fingers to roam down the tan skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down to his sharp collarbones. 

“Can I help with something?” she asks against the hollow of his throat. The angle to stroke himself isn’t quite right, but her mouth and her body pressed against his have brought his cock to almost aching, and Hera can feel how tense he’s becoming. 

“Take off the leggings,” his voice is dark, somewhere between a plea and a demand. 

She obliges, sitting up carefully to shimmy out of them and drop them to the floor. She drapes the full length of herself over him once again, her body pressed against his. Hera rolls her hips against his, the angle perfect for him to sink into her, and a low hiss escapes between his teeth as he tries to keep himself in check.

Hera’s tongue slips along the seam of his lips and he takes her mouth with the desperation of a starving man. Kanan’s hand moves between them, his fingers dipping into her velvety folds and dancing across the tight bundle of nerves. He’s gratified to find her already slick, he’s not sure how much longer he can wait with her writhing against his body. 

Her palms steady herself against his shoulders and she raises her hips just enough for Kanan to find the right angle to slide into her. Hera gasps softly against his mouth, and one of his hands flies to the base of her neck, stroking small circles there, while the other steadies himself against her hip. 

Kanan sinks into her slowly, the tightness of her around him so divine he squeezes his eyes shut against it. He releases a shuddering breath as he’s fully seated in her, and after a moment of savoring the fullness of it all, Hera offers another delicious roll of her hips. It’s enough for Kanan to see stars behind his closed eyes.

“Do it again,” he pleads, and he’s met with both a small musical laugh and another movement of her hips. Kanan’s fingers hold her tight, but she makes no indication of pain as she sets up a rhythm on top of him. 

When he’s finally able to open his eyes, he’s met with Hera’s half-hooded gaze locked on his. She’s repositioned herself smoothly, seated atop him now, and braces herself still with her right hand flat against his chest, but the other has reached up to roll the tight nipple of her left breast in her slender fingers. The sight of her moving so gracefully - without hurry or regard for anything that isn’t  _ him _ underneath her - is one of the most truly beautiful things Kanan has seen in the galaxy and he can feel the warmth continue to build inside him, threatening to spill over.

He tries to meet the movement of her hips against his, but Hera smiles contentedly and bends to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“Just lie still, love,” she insists, “I’ve got you.”

Her voice around the word  _ love _ is almost enough to do him in, and the only response he has to the sensation of everything happening around him is to pull her back down to him and offer her a bruising kiss, the hand at the back of her neck holding her close.

Hera keeps her pace despite his urgency, and he presses his forehead against hers. She sinks as deeply as she can onto his cock, never once breaking the rhythm she’s set, and Kanan feels himself wind tighter and tighter, his release within reach. 

“Hera,” he cries, and buries his face into the crook of her neck as his muscles seize and his hips snap into her carefully measured movements. Hera tosses a lek over her shoulder and slows her rhythm, riding him through the sharp movements of his orgasm and stilling only when she feels him do the same. 

She presses her torso back against his, still joined at their hips. She cants against him intermittently, as his breathing struggles finds its normal cadence and rests her head against his shoulder. She can feel the thrumming of his pulse with his arms wrapped tightly around her back and brings one hand to brush the loose strands of his ponytail from his face.

“Ready for bed?” she asks, and Kanan can hear the smile in her voice.

“That depends,” he says, his voice still coming back to normal, “Will you let me have any part of this bunk?” 

She swats his chest and disentangles herself from him. Hera sits back on her knees and leans forward, pressing her chest against the sheets, for one last lazy stretch of her spine. Kanan watches her admiringly, she is lovely and graceful and completely his. “Keep at it and I’ll make you sleep in the  _ Phantom _ .” 

…  _ Completely _ his, even if she threatens to kick him out of his own cabin.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Kanan says with all the mock indignation a man who has just been gloriously and thoroughly fucked can muster, “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t flail your way onto the floor.” 

  
“I do not  _ flail _ ,” Hera insists primly. He gathers her in his arms and pulls her back flush against his still burning skin of his chest. Kanan’s arms wrap around her shoulders carefully around her lekku, and Hera’s hands settle on his forearms.

“We’ll see who lands where in a few hours,” he promises, not bothering to stifle his yawn. 

“Goodnight, love.” 

The word  _ love _ in her mouth is the last thing Kanan hears before tumbling into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm tentatively accepting Kanera prompts on my tumblr, agent-aurelie.


	3. Hera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera's sleep habits are not conducive to sharing narrow bunks on the Ghost.
> 
> This unplanned (see notes at the end, sigh) chapter takes place the morning after after the second story. This time, from Hera's point of view.

Hera wakes comfortable, warm and relaxed. 

The linens aboard the _Ghost_ were nothing special - she has had moments where she’s considered buying something a little more luxurious, but practicality (and limited credits) always outranked the impulse buy. With Kanan aboard and their affinity for sharing each other's bunks, maybe it’s time to reconsider. 

Kanan.

Hera is cocooned in the sheets, curled comfortably in the middle of his bunk. _His bunk._ She recalls the night before with a sleepy smile, a flush prickling at her skin - she hadn’t been able to stay up for him… something about working on the _Phantom…_ and then lazy stretches… his heated brown skin as she pressed her mouth to his jaw… his neck… his large hand on his cock before she sinks down on him… rides him… _Just lie still, love_ …

She absently reaches behind her, expecting to find his broad chest pressed against her back, but the warmth isn’t there. How long had she been out, and where was Kanan?

Hera sits up in the bunk, the sheets wrapped around her lithe naked body. She raises her arms for a deep stretch and begins scanning the room for her missing lover. “Kanan?” she calls.

There’s a sleepy sound of acknowledgement from… where was he?

Hera swings her legs off the open side of the bunk, tossing the sheets aside. Her sleep clothes are mixed in with the linens and she spots his pants tossed haphazardly near the foot of the bed. Her toes don’t quite touch the ground - instead they’re met with something a lot warmer, a lot more solid, and a lot more Jedi-like.

“Why are you on the floor?” she asks, perching her elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand. She’s trying not to laugh at his naked, curled form clinging to his pillow. 

“Because you were in the bunk.” Kanan mutters, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“There was plenty of room, you could have just--” 

“You _flail_.” 

Hmm. Maybe there was some truth to his teasing the night before. Hera’s barely used to having another sentient aboard her ship, and she’s self-aware enough to recognize that maybe sharing the narrow bunks aboard the _Ghost_ is uncharted territory for her.

“Sorry, love. I’ll go back to mine, come up here.” She toes his stomach gently, trying not to laugh at the completely ridiculous sight of six-foot-something Kanan Jarrus curled around his pillow on the durasteel floor. 

Kanan grumbles something sleepily, but his mouth is playing at a smile and Hera is sure he’s not actually mad. Uncomfortable, perhaps, but not mad. Hera scoots to sit closer to the edge of the mattress and reaches down to grab his arm to pull him up. She’s fully prepared to surrender his bunk and maybe even let him sleep in a little while she starts a maintenance cycle or checks in with Fulcrum. 

He does sit up, twisting his torso to work a kink out of his spine. But instead of rising to slip into bed, he skims warm palms over each of her naked thighs. Hera can’t suppress the shiver of pleasure as his hands settle at her knees, his blue-green gaze dark as it locks on hers. 

“You don’t have to go,” he says, his voice low and gravelly with sleep, and rich with intent.

“I wouldn’t want to have my only crew make a sloppy mistake because he didn’t get his beauty sleep,” Hera grins, and cradles his face in her palms. He is so painfully handsome, a shadow of stubble darkens his sharp jaw, his hair free at his shoulders and his eyes alight with a plan she is positive she is going to enjoy.

“Sloppy mistakes, Captain Hera? I would _never_.” 

She laughs lightly, “I doubt that very much.”

  
“Mmm,” he says noncommittally, settling on his knees and gently palming her knees to press them apart. Before Hera can protest or stand to act on her offer of his bed back, Kanan’s mouth is pressing heated kisses to the inside of her right thigh, his fingers trailing and teasing the soft skin of her left inner thigh. It’s perhaps the most indulgent thing she’s ever done giving into him like this, but Kanan seems to take as much joy in the exploration of her body as she does with his, and she encourages him by sinking her fingers into the dark strands of his hair, her nails gently scraping at his scalp.

“Kanan,” his name tumbles from her lips around a sigh, and she straightens her posture, parting her legs just a little wider to grant him better access. Kanan’s teeth nip playfully at her thigh in acknowledgement, and his fingers trace featherlight circles dangerously close to where she wants them most. Hera’s fingers tighten in the weave of his hair when he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss at the apex of her thighs.

Kanan trails an index finger through the sensitive folds of her sex, teasing gently at her entrance. His movements are steady, controlled, _maddening_ but Hera wishes he’d abandon that blasted control he seems to always have and sink into her, use those talented fingers to bring her to the brink. She fights not to buck her hips against him and loosens her grip on his hair before she causes him actual pain. Maybe Kanan’s registered those small tells in her body language or behavior, because one hand grips tightly at her hip, keeping her in place before he sinks his index finger into her. 

Hera catches her lower lip in her mouth, steadying herself with a shuddery sigh as he slides his middle finger into her to join the first. He curls them inside her and Hera whimpers against the movement of his hand setting a slow, languid pace thrusting in and out of her. He’s rested his head against her thigh and she can feel his eyes taking her in. 

If he wants a show, she’ll give it to him. As best she can around the pleasure building in her core. 

Hera’s hands free themselves from his hair. Her left hand cradles his face, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. The other skates up her stomach and the swell of her breast, her fingers catching on her stiff nipple, rolling and tugging it between her thumb and forefinger, the sensation pulling a breathy sigh from her. She’s rewarded with a groan of appreciation from the man between her legs. 

It seems as though he’s out to one-up her, however, when he brings his thumb of his slowly thrusting hand down onto the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. Kanan expertly circles her clit, his fingers working inside her, and Hera feels a surge of pleasure blaze through her and squeezes her eyes shut surrendering to it, a cry spilling from her lips. 

"Tell me what you want, Hera.” 

His voice sears through her. Her head is swimming against the steady circling of his thumb, the shallow thrusting of his fingers.

“I… I want…” 

“What do you want,” He asks again, pressing his mouth to her inner thigh. His beard scratches at her hypersensitive skin and his breath tickling dangerously close to his hand. Hera is positive that he knows what she wants.

  
“You. I want your mouth.” 

He laughs, and Hera can’t help but notice he too seems to be a little breathless at her confession. But goddess bless and protect him, he obliges. His thumb stops its circling, and before Hera can mourn its loss, his mouth closes at her clit, gently laving and suckling at the sensitive nerves. 

Hera cries out, the sensation nearly blinding as her hands sink into his hair again, holding him in place, willing him to never move from his spot between her legs. His fingers slide out of her slit, and he dips his mouth to lap at the wetness there, first with broad strokes with the flat of his tongue, and then curling into her. 

“Kanan!” she shouts, but he doesn’t stop, worshipping her with his mouth. His fingers, still slick with her desire, have curled around his cock, and she knows that her multitasking, talented Jedi intends to bring them both to orgasm together. 

It takes all of Hera’s control to sit still, to not thrust against him, but she’s so close, and she can tell with the increased pace of his fist around his cock that he’s not far behind her. “Are you going to come, Hera?” he asks against her core, though his voice is significantly tighter than before. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she hisses, and it’s all her brain can piece together in response.

“Tell me that you want to come,” he demands before circling his tongue around her clit again and again, and Hera knows the power her words, her voice have over him.

“I…” _curse you brain, tell him, say something, say_ anything, “I…”

“Hera,” he insists, his fist moving quick, and his free hand spreading her, his fingers sinking back into her to work in time with his tongue. “I want to hear you say it.”   
  
“Kanan,” she cries, and she’s sure she’s never sounded this desperate before. Hera loves seeing him fall apart at her ministrations, and last night was no exception, but now… now, with the focus on her, it feels… too much, he’s too good, too handsome, too warm, too talented, too… 

“Kanan, make me come, Kanan please, I… I want to, I’m so close, pleasejustletme--” 

And he does.

She hears his groan first, and it’s the last push her body needs to completely fall apart. Her muscles tighten and the warmth of release floods through her, leaves her breathless and… is she crying? Laughing? What is breathing?

Kanan’s hand stills inside her, the first thing she’s aware of as her breath comes back to her lungs and the world rights itself is that he’s watching her with thinly veiled wonder, his chest heaving in the wake of his own orgasm. Slowly, gently he frees his fingers from her, wet with her own release and she wants to cry as he raises them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

“I told you you flailed.” Kanan finally says lightly, and Hera resolves in that moment to throw him out of every bed they share if this is how she’s rewarded. 

She can’t help but laugh at her rogue Jedi, and leans forward to press her forehead to his, her lekku tumbling over her shoulders as she slips her arms around his naked shoulders. He presses a gentle kiss to her mouth.

“I’m sorry I threw you out of your own bed,” she tells him and can’t help but indulge in one more sweet kiss.

“At least you didn’t make me sleep in the _Phantom_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Let it never be said I don't take constructive feedback. And it's a good thing SpecSeven is one of my all time favorite people, because the whole reason this little epilogue came about was because I, much to my horror, completely failed to let Hera get off in that story. 
> 
> The fact that I actually felt bad about 
> 
> a) letting my friend down and  
> b) letting my favorite fictional character down 
> 
> ... should tell you everything you need to know about me. Anyway, Hera deserves nice things and good sex, and I am passionate about making both happen for her, so here we are. (I'm not actually mad about writing this, so we're clear.)


End file.
